Delectable Fidelity
by Fickle Luck
Summary: Think Kurama, hookersstripping.  Dedicated to Yumifox13.


**AN:** Spazzie, this is dedicated to you 3 Hope the move goes well!

* * *

When Kurama woke up in the morning, he never imagined anything so bizarre. This was partly due to being a Makai dweller for 100+ years (it oppressed the imaginative juices into pure survival instinct) and since Kurama was a logical person.

If logic could be compared to a ball of ribbon, logic was unraveling very quickly. At this point, he wasn't sure—which in itself was amazing—what to do with the situation at hand.

It could be said it was at hand metaphorically, but in this case it was rather literal. This was because; in both of his hands was a lady. She preoccupied most of him—his limbs, since she was straddling his waist, preventing his legs from moving without harming her, and his face was very close to hers, and sweating.

To his credit, he would be normally very okay with this sort of situation, meaning not that he was a hormone driven male teenager but an _experienced_ man.

Kurama was _not_ okay with this situation, because of the humid temperature of the setting; a typical luxurious room with dark crimson drapes, pillows, and…that nightwear of hers that was showing off her cleavage… If the humidity wasn't enough, then just a sniff of the air would knock you away.

Humidity magnified the smell by ten, the smell that was the sickening perfume of hers, a rose, supposed to be a light scent, was now a thick fog that was practically visible.

The rose was the one thing that brought him here and kept him here and his hand was twitching to grab his rose whip and blow away the thick scent. If only it wasn't such an…arousing sort of situation. With his luck, she would be turned on, he sighed.

"Students have to leave school and play, don't 'cha think…?" She attempted at sultry, but Kurama had heard more pleasant voices, more husky and alluring, and this attempt was well below his own baritone in caliber.

"I'm not a student, I'm out of college." He briskly answered pushing her up, which only encouraged her to wrap her legs around him. "That doesn't stop you from playing doesn't it? Come now, this isn't your mother's house, she won't see anything here…"

Mentioning his mother only caused Kurama to briskly remove her legs from his waist and stand her on the ground—she yelped in surprise. "You should get some rest, you have a tough job." This caused her smoke-lined eyes to narrow into a glare. Kurama ignored her and swiftly broke through the door and swiftly walked out through the narrow halls.

He had just made it through the exit, as labeled by the "EXIT" sign above the door when she, who had apparently followed him, decided to say: "How can you refuse me? You're a pretty face and all, but all men should _worship me_—oh, I get it now, you're one of those transsexuals, aren't you?"

Kurama widened his eyes in surprise then narrowed them into slits, truly annoyed and turned his head to face her. She was smirking that truly annoying smirk and held her hand cocked on her hip, looking completely out of place in the dingy alley they had found themselves in. "_I—_"

"You won't get far in our business, that's sure, but you would be a _delectable_ stripper…" Kurama firmly grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to a dumpster, determined to get her to see straight.

"I understand that you think yourself rather high in this business of yours, I understand that you _obviously_ see yourself as predator and I as prey—" _Delusional this one was._ "—but what _you_ should be understanding of is that I am _out of your league_. 'Delectable', derived from the Latin word _delectare_, 'to please'. Someone like you _cannot_ 'please' me because I am faithful to one person, and you are not that person."

She was still in her delusions of grandeur. "A goody-two shoes, how _sweet_. And, it looks like you're a scholar too. You got the body, the brains…" she sighed, "…and the _morals_..."

"'Morals'?" Kurama scoffed. "It's called 'fidelity'." He swiftly turned on his heel to leave her there--

--to be stopped by the group of her friends that had migrated over. A blonde—obviously bleached, stepped over in her stilettos and corset and sidled up to Kurama. "Excuse us! We have been, ah, _admiring_ you for some time now, and we are willing to give you a deal…"

Another one, a brunette with fishnets and skimpier clothing than the rest came over to rub her hands over his chest. "It's not as much a deal, but a…_wish_." She blew in his ear with the last word.

The one that was still drab in red, matching the room, came over and stroked his cheek. He absently wondered if the rest matched their clothes to their rooms. "Yes, you see, we've been seeking someone special and…"

* * *

--"_Well what!_" came the eager question through electronic speaker of Kurama's handheld phone. There was a scuffle as a gruff voice, more presumably Hiei's grumbled through the same speaker. "_Kitsune, this is what you get for getting drunk with Yusuke. I'm ashamed in you._" 

Kurama rolled his eyes and cut off whatever he was going to say. "_Onii-san, get Kurama-san to tell!_" Hiei coughed. "_Well?_" _Expect the worst and hope for the best…_

Kurama sighed. "…that's how I became a pimp."

* * *

**AN:** Ah...random crack... 


End file.
